Elizabeth Barrett Browning Quotes - Page 6

I would confide to you perhaps my secret profession of faith - which is ... which is ... that let us say and do what we please and can ... there is a natural inferiority of mind in women - of the intellect ... not by any means, of the moral nature - and that the history of Art and of genius testifies to this fact openly.

I would build a cloudy House For my thoughts to live in; When for earth too fancy-loose And too low for Heaven! Hush! I talk my dream aloud - I build it bright to see, - I build it on the moonlit cloud, To which I looked with thee.

What monster have we here? A great Deed at this hour of day? A great just deed - and not for pay? Absurd - or insincere?

Behold me! I am worthy Of thy loving, for I love thee!

When we first met and loved, I did not build Upon the event with marble. . . .

Yet half the beast is the great god Pan, To laugh, as he sits by the river, Making a poet out of a man. The true gods sigh for the cost and the pain-- For the reed that grows never more again As a reed with the reeds of the river.

The man, most man, works best for men: and, if most man indeed, he gets his manhood plainest from his soul.

There, that is our secret: go to sleep! You will wake, and remember, and understand.

Eve is a twofold mystery.

Of all the thoughts of God that are Borne inward unto souls afar, Along the Psalmist's music deep, Now tell me if that any is. For gift or grace, surpassing this-- He giveth His beloved sleep.

I work with patience, which is almost power.

Definition of Love: A score of zero in tennis. I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears of all my life.

Every wish Is like a prayer--with God.

Quick-loving hearts ... may quickly loathe.

Do ye hear the children weeping, O my brothers?

Don't get me wrong-painting's all right. But now that we have photography, what's the point?

New angel mine, unhoped for in the world!

And lilies are still lilies, pulled By smutty hands, though spotted from their white.

I, who thought to sink, was caught up into love, and taught the whole of life in a new rhythm.

Souls are dangerous things to carry straight through all the spilt saltpetre of this world.

Souls are gregarious in a sense, but no soul touches another, as a general rule.

Large, musing eyes, neither joyous nor sorry.

OF writing many books there is no end; And I who have written much in prose and verse For others' uses, will write now for mine,- Will write my story for my better self, As when you paint your portrait for a friend, Who keeps it in a drawer and looks at it Long after he has ceased to love you, just To hold together what he was and is.

Unless you can feel when the song is done No other is sweet in its rhythm; Unless you can feel when left by one That all men else go with him.

Death forerunneth Love to win "Sweetest eyes were ever seen."